The Risen
by coveryoureyes
Summary: Tracy was majorly pissed off. Hell hadn't been fun or anything, but she was a demon and doing alright as the Master of Hounds. At least until Dean freaking Winchester grabbed on to her on his way out and dragged her with him back to Earth, shoving her back into her old body. Sam/OC
1. Chapter 1

Sam let out an annoyed sigh as he filled the tank of the Impala. Dean had been looking through the snack section of the gas station for almost ten minutes, and Sam would bet anything that he'd be returning with the greasiest, most artery-clogging thing he could find. And he'd probably grab granola for Sam, making fun of his habit of _eating healthy_ as if it was embarrassing.

When Dean _finally_ came out of the store, Sam pulled the nozzle out, screwing the gas tank closed and shutting the cover. Dean was holding what had to be 35 dollars worth of snack food, and Sam made a mental note to get to an actual diner as soon as they could so he could force something green down his older brother's throat. Their lives were already getting messed up now that apparently angels existed and one had brought Dean back to life, he couldn't handle losing Dean to _heart disease_ of all things.

His brother seemed to be doing everything he could to _not_ act like the 'righteous man' the angel claimed him to be - drinking more, sleeping around - the usual, but cranked up to 200 percent. Sam didn't get it. Sure, Dean could be a complete asshole at times, but he was the guy who hadn't walked away from the life of trying to save people from monsters - Sam was the one who had left. Dean being the 'righteous man' wasn't infeasible, even if Sam wished to any deity that he and his brother would finally get left out of prophecies and huge plots.

"Found you some of the rabbit food you're always -"

Dean was cut off from whatever insult he was going to spit out when a black SUV came speeding into the gas station, the tires screeching as it swerved closer to them. However, the brakes were slammed and it came to a stop fifteen feet away.

The person exiting the vehicle was only saying a string of swears under her breath, obviously angry. It was sort of strange to hear when it was paired with a heavy Valley Girl accent.

"Oh my fucking God, the things I do for -"

As she stepped fully out of the car, she slammed the driver's side door harshly enough that Dean made an audible pained sound.

However, it became clear a second later that her abuse to the car wasn't the only reason she was pissed off and Dean was uncharacteristically silent. Spinning to look at Dean, the woman's eyes narrowed and an enraged expression covered her face.

"I'm going to _kill you_ , Winchester!"

She began walking towards them and Sam tried cataloging all of Dean's recent hookups who would be this angry to see him, since her words had been directed at his older brother. Had Dean not let her know he was leaving in the morning or something? He usually picked up bar flies so Sam had always thought the women knew they would only be temporary. Oh crap - was she some past one night stand who'd gotten pregnant? She didn't look like Dean's usual type, though - she was really tall and somewhat lanky, with bleached hair and loose, wrinkled clothing.

Dean responded with a tight, worried voice that seemed somewhat disbelieving when he croaked out, " _Tracy_?"

The woman - Tracy, apparently, though Dean could be remembering the wrong name - looked like she was about to tear him a new one. As she strode up until she was right in front of his older brother, Sam could admit that he was somewhat amused and curious as to what Dean had done to get such a reaction out of the woman. _Especially_ since Dean seemed incredibly unprepared to be dealing with her. Sam was predicting some more yelling and insults in the future.

However, instead she punched him hard enough on the mouth that even Sam winced just seeing it happen. Dean turned to the side and bent down slightly as he spat on the ground with blood in his saliva but stood back up straight a second later with a look of complete shock, marred by his already-split lip.

"What the - how the hell are you here?"

The woman pushed up the right sleeve of her button down shirt and Sam was taken aback by the large scarring on her wrist. It seemed like a burn scar and actually looked sort of like the one on Dean's -

"When your feathered chauffeur swooped in _you grabbed on to me and_ _tore me out with you_ , you stupid, stupid son of a bitch!"

After finishing her sentence, Tracy shoved Dean back, making him stumble a few steps. Ever since Dean had come back from hell, Sam had been even more protective than usual of his older brother. Having to bury Dean's body - the memory of having to even _look_ at it still kept him up at night, and he was determined to not let his brother be hurt again if he could do anything to prevent it.

So when Tracy's eyes flashed black, Sam acted on his first instinct.

* * *

The sound of Sam's pistol going off seemed louder than usual. Even though Dean knew logically that he couldn't have heard the bullet when it hit her chest, he could have sworn that the dull thud reached his ears.

The moment of silence afterwards was stifling, and the first sound that broke the quiet was an extremely offended, dramatic scoff.

"Did you seriously just _shoot me?_ In the _heart?"_

 _Oh shit._

Dean cringed at Tracy's shriek and avoided her eyes, knowing that she was probably far past enraged at this point. He could only imagine that they were still fully black at the moment – she tended to flash her demonic traits when she was pissed.

Sam shifted back and forth on his feet and was visibly caught off guard. He couldn't blame him; demons didn't really make a habit of yelling at the Winchesters, and dealing with angry women was more of Dean's forte - Sam was the one they usually cried on.

Obviously, this was not going to be one of those scenarios that played out like he had wanted. Dean really, _really_ had not seen this coming.

Sam decided to enter the conversation and spoke in a threatening tone as he reached into his pocket to probably pull out holy water.

"What do you want with – "

Dean immediately slapped the bottle out of his brother's hands, barely processing what was happening. Tracy was - shit, they'd met in _hell_. How the fuck was she here, and in a body that looked exactly like her soul-flesh in the pit had? Tracy waved her hand dismissively at Sam and the darkness bled out of her eyes. Her posture relaxed and she loosely crossed her arms in front of her chest. Flipping her blonde hair over one shoulder, she rolled her eyes and scowled. Her disgruntled, California-accented voice cut him off.

"Shut the hell up, gigantic. It's whatever. But Dean here has some fucking _explaining to do_."

Sam looked on edge still and bewildered, turning to Dean with an alarmed look on his face. Dean knew him better than anyone else in the world, and he was familiar with the fact that Sam didn't necessarily see the things they hunted in a black and white manner; he thought in shades of grey and at times tried to discern whether or not the monsters they pursued always _deserved_ to be hunted. But demons - demons were always evil in both of their books. Clearly Dean's familiarity with one was freaking him out. Dean wanted to reassure Sam or say something to explain, but... shit. He'd have to come clean about the fact he remembered hell, especially since he had made it obvious that he recognized her immediately.

It would be hard _not_ to when she had been his only - Friend? Companion? - during the 40 years he'd been in the pit that wasn't psychotic or torturing him.

Sam clearly wanted to gank the young woman – the demon – in front of them, but she seemed adamant as far as talking to Dean, and damn, that was a conversation he didn't want to have considering he was starting to suspect what had happened. To his surprise she hadn't attacked Sam or tried to kill him, which was pretty cordial for a demon considering Sam had just shot her. Sam was staring at him with a tense expression that clearly demanded an explanation. Apparently Dean was supposed to be the judge, jury, and executioner of Tracy, who was now impatiently tapping her foot in front of them and twirling a lock of her bleached blonde hair around a finger.

* * *

 _Hell_

Dean didn't know how much longer he could do this. It had been ten years and _every goddamn day_ he wanted to pick up the knife when offered. Every day he considered it, even as he spit at Alistair and cursed him with every insult he knew. It was only clinging to the thought of Sam that kept him from doing it. He - he _couldn't_ turn into the sort of thing he hunted. It was a minuscule, stupidly small chance, but when he even considered the possibility of going up to Earth as a demon, it scared him. Would he see Sam, Bobby, even Jo or Ellen and kill them? His memories were all he had.

Dean recoiled, flinching back on the hooks holding him and causing him to let out another strangled grunt of pain when the thing appeared in front of him. It was a vague shape, barely an outline - but he could hear the sniffling, low sound a dog made. This thing was a hellhound. Was this some new way to toy with him? Make the things that killed him tear him apart every day in new ways?

A minute later though, the thing hadn't touched him. Instead, he watched with incredulousness as its form became clearer and clearer until it was standing before him and looking sort of like a Rottweiler. It sat down on its haunches and just looked at him.

" _Lennon, come!_ "

The shout made the hound turn and stand up before it took off, and when Dean followed its path with his eyes he saw that it was running up to a woman.

No, she wasn't on the rack - so the hellhound had ran towards a _demon_. When it reached her, he watched with disbelief as it nuzzled into her outstretched hand, which immediately began scratching behind its ears.

"What are you doing all the way out here, you little monster? No running off!"

She turned her head after finishing with her bizarre baby talk, looking around before finally seeing Dean and making eye contact with him. With a small, surprised sound, she patted the hellhound again on the head and strode over. When she finally stood right in front of Dean she didn't laugh or start tormenting him like he had anticipated and prepared himself for. Instead, she started talking with an interested California accent.

"He doesn't like anybody but me. So who're you?"


	2. Chapter 2

_Hell_

She kept coming back over the course of the next five years during the time when Alistair left Dean to heal before more torture started up again. She hadn't spoken to him since the first time when he'd spat at her feet and cursed at her. Her expression stilled edged on the brink of curiousness, but for the most part she just looked like she was assessing him for something.

Once when he was being taken apart he'd seen her in the distance, weaving her way around other demons and souls on the rack. She'd glanced at him, but when her gaze had turned to Alistair she'd looked legitimately alarmed and run off.

Alistair hadn't bothered turning to see what Dean was looking at. Instead he'd picked up a different knife to start with.

Today, however, she approached him again, this time looking more interested than usual. The demon casually walked up to him, and had three hellhounds with her that were all manifested and he could see. He recognized the Rottweiler, but the other two looked more like German Shepherds.

Before she made it all the way in front of Dean, he watched as she looked down and softly said, "Shoo. I played with you all morning."

Instead of immediately moving, the three starting jumping up on her and wagging their tales in some freakish imitation of real dogs. Laughing and shoving playfully at them, Dean could _almost_ mistake it as a normal scene on Earth. However, after the demon firmly insisted once again that they go away, the hellhounds all left. Dean couldn't stop the derisive snort he let out before saying in a scathing voice, "Playing around and tearing people apart."

She didn't respond and instead sat down a few feet in front of him, crossing her legs and looking far too relaxed for Dean's comfort. He was strung up still, so he towered above her, giving him the most miniscule sense of comfort.

The demon was drumming her fingers on her knees, but finally spoke in a relaxed, conversational tone as her eyes travelled over his body and she said, "Alistair likes spending time with you. He doesn't usually chill with one person for so long. And the new demons usually mess around with like, the souls who were _actually_ damned sooooo…"

She trailed off and locked brown eyes with him, not covering their surface with the smoky black he'd seen most demons in the pit wear all the time.

" _You_ made a deal. And it had to be a worthwhile one if Alistair wants you to pick up the knife so bad. He's got a kink for turning people dark, y'know."

Dean snarled at her, not willing to say anything about why he had made a deal. He would stay in the pit forever if it meant Sam was safe, and there was no fucking way he'd give a demon information about his brother to use against him. Deciding to go on the offensive, he opened his mouth and said in a very clearly fake tone, "And I'm sure you're here for something _worthwhile_."

The demon shrugged and remained nonchalant when she said, "Oh yeah, babe. Murder, sacrilege, chaos, and bloodshed. A naughty, no good, very bad soul before I turned into a demon."

To Dean's surprise she was – she seemed like she was lying. Not giving enough of a shit to question her further, he looked away and stayed silent, hoping she'd leave soon. Instead, she kept speaking.

"I'm Tracy, by the way. And my dogs don't tear people apart _all_ the time. I train them to do their job and lend 'em out to the demons that collect, yeah, but there's usually a baby or two in the litter that can't handle Earth. Ringo and Paul are complete sweethearts."

"You – you named _hellhounds_ after the _Beatles_?"

Looking down at her incredulously, he was taken aback by her delighted smile that didn't seem to be particularly threatening and actually looked genuine.

Shit – this was classic behavior. Send in someone nonthreatening and seemingly sympathetic in to a torture victim in between rounds to make the captive creates an emotional attachment. Just as he was about to tell her to fuck off, he saw her flinch at the same time he did when Alistair's voice rang out.

"If it isn't my old protégé. Jealous of my new favorite, Tracy? He's sure to turn out better than you did."

The demon stood up quickly and Dean saw her shift her expression of nervousness to one of sadistic amusement before she turned, cocking a hip and assuming a relaxed posture. When she spoke, it was a cruel, drawling tone.

"I'm offended. He seems so boring though, I don't get what you see in this one."

Dean watched their exchange with suspicion as Alistair let out a laugh and responded, "Oh he's big news topside. You wouldn't have heard of him though, Winchester here made a name for himself decades after your time. I want another round with him. Go back to your newest litter."

Tracy immediately followed Alistair's instruction, letting out a whistle that called the three hellhounds she'd arrived with to her side. Without looking back, she disappeared.

* * *

Sam was on edge and hadn't looked away from the demon since they'd started driving. Dean was tense, but still staring forward as the Impala cruised down the highway. Sam was sitting in the passenger seat but had completely twisted his torso around so he could watch Tracy the entire time she was at Dean's back.

The demon hadn't really _done_ anything yet. In fact, she seemed more bored than anything else. She'd stopped braiding and un-braiding her hair after half an hour before she'd moved on to dramatically huffing, probably to get their attention. But now – four hours since they'd all left the gas station – she was simply lying down across the backseat, glancing out the window every few minutes and humming a song Sam didn't recognize.

Dean, surprisingly, was the one to break the silence. With gruffness that Sam had only ever heard directed at him – since it was a clear cover up to actually caring about something – he said, "What, too good for a seatbelt, Trace?"

The demon laughed and sat up in the middle of the back seat, meeting Dean's eyes in the mirror before saying in what was clearly a falsely pleasant tone, "Aren't you a sweetheart. And since this body keeps healing at like a crazy fast rate, flying through the windshield probably wouldn't do anything." Narrowing her eyes, her voice became sharper when she said, "I was exorcised. Or at least, some hunter tried to exorcise me a week ago. But seeing as this is the meatsack I wore for twenty-six years on Earth, it seems like I can't fucking smoke out of it."

The car was silent for another moment and Sam had begun looking at Dean before Tracy cut in once again.

"Can we listen to music? Do you have – "

To Sam's surprise, Dean cut her off with a weirdly amused tone as he said, "The Beatles. Coming right up, blondie."

…Dean didn't listen to the Beatles. In fact, Sam had no idea when he would have gotten any kind of CD or tape in the last few weeks, so his answer was even more out of character. With suspicion quickly manifesting, Sam whipped his head to stare at the demon, trying to figure out if she was working some kind of illusion like a djinn would be able to pull off.

He was surprised to see that instead a forlorn expression had taken over her face, and her lips were pressed tightly together.

What the hell was she playing at?

Before Sam could voice his question out loud, Tracy spoke.

"The reason I get the best results is 'cause they're _mine_ , ya know? I don't want some random demon to…"

The demon trailed off, and to Sam's surprise once more Dean responded in an out-of-character way. Without looking away from the road, he reached back and flicked her knee in a casual display of familiarity.

"Your monsters aren't going to forget you, blondie. You're their favorite hellspawn."

Tracy laughed with a somewhat cruel manner and flashed her eyes black, causing Sam to once more reach for a knife and holy water, only barely stopping himself. When the demon spoke it was in the conversational, sadistic tone that demons often used.

"Oh baby, tone down the compliments. There's no way you're getting in my pants. It would be a shame to slit your throat right after."

Sam could honestly say he never would have thought he'd see a demon wink with black eyes, and for his brother to respond with a derisive snort.

"Wouldn't touch a demon with a ten-foot pole."

Sam – he _hated_ this. Ruby had done everything she could to help them. He knew they could trust her, especially when she'd been helping him develop his abilities when he'd thought Dean would never be coming back. Another demon showing up and claiming to be good or even useful to them? No goddamn way.

A second later Tracy's eyes receded into what Sam could now see was a dark brown and she once more started fiddling with her hair. Squaring her shoulders, Sam tracked her movements as she fixed what Sam could tell was clearly a falsely jovial expression on her face. With an air of casualness that made her words that much more shocking, she poked Dean's back and spoke.

"I don't recommend going through reverse-cremation, by the way. Getting all your little bits and pieces mashed back together after they've spread out the last twenty years really fucking hurts."

Dean slammed on the brakes.


	3. Chapter 3

_Hell_

Tracy had only asked around a little bit, and been sure to keep her questions and prompting vague. But the new man on the rack was _interesting_. And the monotony had gotten to her in the last seventy years. If Alistair was interested in him, it meant he had to be someone important.

Tracy herself hadn't been all that different or spectacular when Alistair had picked her out.

She'd broken after four days.

Honestly, it wasn't a big source of shame for her. Sure, some demons bragged about lasting for years before turning. But Tracy – shit, she'd been in grad school with the hope of being an employee at an _advertising agency_ someday. She wasn't equipped to handle _torture_. Torturing other people was so much easier – why would she put random souls before her own?

It had taken only a few hours for her to hate her older sister. When Jen had gotten sick, Tracy had looked up every random pagan or satanic or whatever ritual. She didn't think anything would work, but of course when some random guy with red eyes and a sort-of-sexy accent promised to make her sister's ovarian cancer go away she'd basically said, "sign me the fuck up."

In retrospect she now knew she could have gotten ten years. But Tracy had been desperate and had no idea what she was doing, so a month had seemed like an alright bet. Plus, Crowley was a crafty son of a bitch and been pretty convincing selling her on four weeks. And trading her 'soul'? She didn't even believe in souls.

There was no way she could have known what was in store.

Alistair only liked her because he'd thought her deal was especially entertaining, apparently. It was funny to him that she became a full demon in less than a year in the pit.

The complication that had arisen, however, was that she wasn't as good at torture as he wanted her to be. Apparently she 'lacked imagination' when it came to torture, and just slashing at soulflesh randomly with a knife wasn't good enough. It especially sucked since she was trying her best. After a few years chopping into people had been fun. Hearing them scream only felt fair since she'd once been the one crying out. But from there, she'd basically been demoted to the Girl-Friday of hell, running errands and being everyone's bitch.

That meant going through contracts and scheduling out who was getting dragged to hell on any specific day. It wasn't all that bad, mostly really boring - though trying to get on Crowley's nerves _all the damn time_ – pun intended – was so much fun. But she was also volunteered for less pleasant tasks like acting as a participant when the head torturers needed a demon to demonstrate on when they taught others. Alistair used to request her often for that role when she had still been a drifter. Her screams were apparently _gorgeous_.

Finally finding a task that she was responsible for was the best thing that had happened to her ever since she'd entered the pit. She didn't know how long it had been since she'd fully turned into a demon. Torturing others once she was off the rack had turned her flayed soul dark pretty damn fast, and when she'd first changed everything had seemed new and different. After a few decades, she settled down and most of her old personality had returned.

Tracy had always been a little bit of a brat. She was close to her family and friends, yeah, but not a whole lot of people had actually _mattered_ to her. After becoming a demon, well. That was a hell of a good characteristic.

Coming across the hounds – it was the first genuine laugh she'd experienced in what had to be years. Smiles happened all the time – amusement was still pretty much a daily part of her life as a demon. It was usually just the result of fucked up shit.

The hounds hadn't been manifested, so Tracy had basically just gotten slammed on the ground and slobbered on by some invisible animals. But then they'd all shown their forms and revealed three hellhounds that looked kind of like Dobermans.

The demon that had been the previous Master of Hounds had gaped at the scene before gripping Tracy's arm and dragging her to his superior. Apparently the hounds didn't manifest around people very often, and the demon had been having a shitty time trying to take care of them and raise them when they were barely visible.

Tracy had the dude's job less than an hour later.

* * *

Tracy was so fucking _bored_. And the baby Winchester was really annoying. If she was gonna kill Dean she would have done it as soon as she saw him. Or maybe she would have run him over with the shitty SUV she'd stolen. It would be especially hilarious for him to die by means of a car Tracy knew he would hate.

His bloodstains would look really pretty though. Tracy hadn't drawn much attention to herself after realizing she couldn't leave her body and would therefore be vulnerable on earth for now, so she hadn't mangled or killed anyone. Being around humans all the time was kind of giving her the urge.

Seriously – if Dean's little brother didn't stop staring at her and looking all pissy and mistrusting she was going to hit him with a brick. Or maybe punch him in the throat. Like, _yeah_ , she was a demon, but he clearly didn't know how close his big brother had come to turning into one himself. The judgmental expression would probably slide off his pretty face.

Sam Winchester _was_ pretty, though. All cheekbones and green eyes with floppy hair. If he didn't reek of self-righteousness she might have tried to get it on with him. She hadn't had sex in centuries. In hell it didn't seem like any sort of priority at all. Just like the fact that soulflesh didn't require food or water, evidently all biological drives were put on hold. Meaning that after Dean had dragged her out her body had gone into overdrive.

Anyway, Dean had finally stopped grilling her about her experience coming back, and Tracy was kind of pissed that he'd just woken up whole in a coffin when she'd been through enough pain that it compared to one of the rougher rounds of torture Alistair would provide.

Or Dean, once he'd picked up the knife and she'd been the one he practiced on.

* * *

 _Hell_

"I'm sorry, okay? But _everyone_ gives in. Everyone. I don't get why you're being such a stubborn asshole. It's not so bad."

Dean hated Tracy so much when this topic came up. She became the literal demon on his shoulder that kept encouraging him to start torturing. And she made it sound so easy – like the decision should be obvious and not cause any kind of remorse.

She hadn't shut up whenever she'd visit, and after ten years of rambling he felt like he knew way too much about her. When she'd revealed that another demon had told her all about the Winchester brothers he had tried harder than ever before to pull himself off the rack to kill her. Tracy didn't have the right to know anything about him and Sam. But then… he'd started answering back. If he didn't talk to someone he'd go crazy. Or at least that was how he tried to justify their bizarre comradery to himself.

There had been moments when he sort of forgot she was evil and when they had normal, snarky conversations. But demons were exactly that – the personification of evil and pain, the epitome of what he hunted. She didn't seem hell-bent on committing mass murder or dismembering people. Tracy had gone on a rant about her own time adjusting to being a demon, how much she'd loved it but how much she'd hated that she wasn't even good at torture.

The first time Alistair had caught her five years ago when she'd been seeing him for fifteen years total, Dean felt a tenuous connection with her for the first time. It had evolved into the weird relationship they had now.

Tracy had at first put up a bored, disdainful front in regard to Dean, saying that she'd merely wanted to eye up the famed hunter who was now hell's bitch. _That_ had stung, of course. But Dean had let it go when Alistair had answered her.

"You sure you're not just sentimental because of your own deal? We should give him a bit of a demonstration."

For the next two days Dean had watched as Tracy's soulflesh was peeled away from her bones, her ligaments torn out, brands pressed against her skin.

Alistair had released her from the rack that she'd been set up on just across from Dean. She'd collapsed into a shaking, quivering wreck. Only minutes later, seven hellhounds had bounded over to her before lying beside her, occasionally snuffling against her skin as it knit itself together.

She'd popped right back up of course when she was finally pieced back together, looking nonchalant and entertained, even going so far as to make jokes about getting Alistair's attention again, about how she was so touch starved that the pain felt wonderful.

But Dean had watched her terror, her pain.

He'd heard when she'd sobbed for a woman named Jen.


End file.
